Captain Desmond, V.C. Part 59

"Well, then----?"

"It concerns _you_, my dear Theo," Paul answered slowly. "And it is about--your wife."

Desmond frowned sharply, and Wyndham saw the defensive look spring into his eyes.

"Do you mean----? Has there been an accident?"

"No--no; nothing of that sort. I'm sorry to have been so clumsy."

"She is quite safe? Nothing wrong with her?"

"Nothing whatever."

Desmond's mouth took an expression Wyndham knew well. An enemy might have called it pig-headed.

"At that rate, there can be no more to say about her."

And he went leisurely over to the mantelpiece, where he remained, leaning on one elbow, his back towards his companion. Paul saw plainly that he was ill at ease, and cursed the contingency which compelled him to further speech.

"Forgive me if I seem intrusive, Theo," he began, "but I am afraid there is more to be said. This afternoon Olliver spoke to me----"

Desmond swung round again, with blazing eyes.

"What the h.e.l.l has Olliver got to do with _my wife_? I have never interfered with his."

Paul Wyndham looked very steadily into the disturbed face of his friend. Then he brought his hand down on the green baize of the table before him.

"Theo--my dear fellow," he said, "it is hard enough for me, in any case, to say what I must. Is it quite generous of you to make it harder?"

The fire died slowly out of Desmond's eyes, giving place to a look of stubborn resignation.

"Forgive me, Paul. Sorry I lost my temper. Let me have the bare facts, please. Though I probably know them already."

And he returned to his former att.i.tude, the fingers of his left hand caressing mechanically the stem of a tall vase.

His last remark made Paul watch him anxiously. He was wondering whether Theo's determination to s.h.i.+eld his wife would possibly goad him into a direct lie; and he devoutly hoped not.

"Well," he began at length, "Olliver spoke to me because there seems to be rather a strong feeling in the Regiment about Mrs Desmond and--Kresney being so constantly together again just now----"

The vase Desmond was handling fell with a crash on the concrete hearth, and the blood spurted from a surface cut on his finger. But beyond thrusting the scarred hand into his coat pocket, he made no movement.

"Go on," he said doggedly; and Paul obediently went on, addressing his unresponsive back and shoulders.

"You see, it was rather--noticeable while you were away. Perhaps the fact that we all dislike Kresney made it more so; and it naturally strikes one as very bad taste on his part to be forcing himself on your wife at a time like this. It seems there was some slight talk at the Club too--not worth noticing, of course. But you know Mrs Olliver takes fire easily, where any of us are concerned; and Olliver seemed afraid she might speak to Mrs Desmond, unless I came to you. He met them again this afternoon; and he felt you ought at least to know exactly how matters stand----"

"He might have taken it for granted that I should do that without _his_ interference."

Desmond's temper was flaring up again; and his words brought the anxious look back to Paul's eyes. Theo was sailing very near the wind.

"We all know you too well to believe that you would--tolerate such a state of things--_if_ you were aware of them," he answered slowly, choosing his words with care. "Please understand, Theo, that it is Kresney who is criticised; and that Olliver put the whole thing before me as nicely as possible. I feel I have been clumsy enough myself. But it goes against the grain to say anything at all, you understand?"

Desmond's sole answer was a decisive nod of the head. Then silence fell--a strained silence, difficult to break. Yet it was he himself who broke it.

"I can do no less than thank you," he said stiffly. "It was a hateful thing to have thrust upon you; but Frank's intrusion would have been unendurable. The truth is--" he paused, for the words were hard to bring out--"I have known--all along that my wife was more friendly with--these Kresneys than I quite cared about. One could make no valid objections without seeming uncharitable, and she is still too new here to understand our point of view. But I must see to it now that she _shall_ understand, once and for all. It is intolerable to have one's brother officers--making remarks, even with the best intentions. Will you ask Honor to tell my wife, when she comes in, that I want to see her?"

Silence again; and Paul rose to his feet. It hurt him to leave his friend without a word. But the att.i.tude Desmond had adopted precluded the lightest touch of sympathy, and Wyndham could not choose but admire him the more.

"By the way"--Desmond turned upon him as he went with startling abruptness--"_Honor_ isn't in any way mixed up with all this, is she?"

Something in his look and tone made Wyndham glance at him intently before replying. "Of course she saw how things were while you were away. But she has been out very little lately; and as far as I can judge, she knows nothing about the talk that is going on now."

"Thank Heaven!" Desmond muttered into his moustache; but Paul's ear failed to catch the words.

"Won't you have a 'peg' or a cup of tea, Theo?" he asked gently.

"No, thanks."

"I think you ought to have one or the other."

"Very well, whichever you please. Only, bring it yourself, there's a good chap."

Paul's eyes rested thoughtfully upon his friend, who, absorbed in his own reflections, seemed to have forgotten his presence. Then he went slowly away, revolving the matter in his mind.

While avoiding the least shadow of false statement, Desmond had succeeded in s.h.i.+elding his wife from the one serious implication suggested by her conduct, or at least would have so succeeded, but for the tell-tale crash of gla.s.s upon the hearth-stone. Yet the most vivid impression left on Paul by their short interview was the look in Theo's eyes when he had asked that one abrupt question about Honor Meredith.

Was it possible----? Was it even remotely possible----?

Wyndham reined in the involuntary thought, as a man reins in his horse on the brink of a precipice. Common loyalty to the friend he loved, with the unspoken love of half a lifetime, forbade him to look that shrouded possibility frankly in the face.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

THE LOSS OF ALL.

"The loss of all love has to give, Save pardon for love wronged."

--O. MEREDITH.

"Here I am, Theo. Honor says you want to see me."

Evelyn Desmond closed the door behind her; and at sight of her husband transformed into his very self--freed at last from all disfigurements--she ran to him with outstretched arms.

"Theo, are you really all right again? I can hardly believe it."

But Desmond had no answer to give her. He simply squared his right arm, warding off her hands.

Then she saw the hard lines of his mouth, the inexpressible pain in his eyes; and, clutching at his rigid forearm, tried to force it down.